Fairy Tale Revisited: The Hidden Tower
by cherryblossomjen
Summary: Derek and Casey are stranded in a disturbingly familiar fairy-tale-like world with no clue how they got there. Or how to leave. Ch2 - Monsters and Wake-Up Calls.
1. Chapter 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - }}ï{{ - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**The Hidden Tower****  
**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thanks very much to **OverlyDramatic** for being kind enough to beta this for me, way back when. I appreciate it.

"The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in"  
-- W. H. Auden, poet.

Derek squinted his eyes.

The tower stretched high into the heavens, clouds forming a backdrop for its crooked silhouette.

"You're saying a girl is being kept up there?"

The old man looked at him, visibly confused. "Of course that's where she is. You must come from very far away if you've never heard the story of the princess held captive in the tower."

Derek smiled weakly, shifting his eyes. "Yeah. Something like that."

The old man shrugged, resigned to repeat what to most was common knowledge. "Well, the story itself is ancient. That tower is all that can be seen of a castle hidden underneath a forest of overgrowth. It was once the heart of a thriving kingdom. Not any more. It started because the king and queen tried for children, to no avail. Until one day, when a young girl fell from the heavens."

Derek's eyes widened. "She just appeared out of nowhere?"

The man sighed, his hands fumbling with a spinning wheel. "A strange way to phrase it, but yes. The king and queen took the girl's arrival as a gift from above and claimed her as their heir. They held an enormous festival celebrating the new princess. Unfortunately, not everyone rejoices at the happy news of others. The queen's resentful older sister had planned to make use of the queen's barrenness and place her own daughter on the throne. She was not pleased when her plans were foiled."

Derek knew where this was going. He swallowed. "What did she do?"

The old man continued, lifting spools of wool from his machine. "After everyone else had bestowed their gifts, she made a toast, offering the princess a poisoned glass of wine. The queen was wary and wouldn't let the princess drink it. In a wave of anger the queen's sister attacked the princess – but the palace guards were quick to stop her before she could do any harm."

"Well, that's good news."

"It was, at the time. But three days later the princess went missing and a sleeping sickness spread to everyone within meters of the palace walls. News spread that the princess was trapped inside a tower, and waking her was the key to saving the entire kingdom. But a forest grew untamed around the city, stopping all traffic in and out."

"Why hasn't anyone tried to save them?

The old man looked down. "Oh, many tried. Rumors of the monster who guards the tower served only to entice foolhardy heroes. Many a young lad ventured in, eyes set on the glory of saving a princess and gaining a throne. Little did they know the match they'd meet."

Derek's brow furrowed. "What happened to them exactly?"

The man paused, a somber expression forming on his face. "They faced an enemy no man can escape. You see, _time_ passes differently in that sphere. More quickly, yet more slowly."

"What do you mean?"

"Outside the lair of the castle, time is as we all know it. But once within meters of the black forest, time seems to quicken and disappear. Prince or pauper who ventures in must be prepared to come back to a different world. If he fails, like all the rest, he comes back without a princess, without a crown, and having lost everyone and everything he had before. His family, his friends, his country are long dead." The man's last words came out as a whisper, but as he finished his head rose, seeming to come out of a momentary dream.

Derek narrowed his eyes, reassessing the man. "You seem to know a lot about it."

"More than most, I suppose. Take it from one who knows, boy, Leave that legend alone. Find a trade, live a happy life and leave untouchable princesses to dreams."

Derek scoffed under his breath. It wasn't that easy for him. "Just one more thing."

The man paused, turning around to face him again.

"This princess – did she have a name?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Cassandra," the queen said, one hand holding the half-finished embroidery of a violet she'd been working on. "Please be careful, it's getting late and the guards have yet to arrive."

Casey turned to look at the woman. Her ginger-blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect ripples and she sat demurely on a thick blanket, protecting her dress from the dewy grass. "Yes, you're majesty," was all Casey said.

The queen frowned, her eyes sad. "You can call me mother now, Cassandra."

Casey smiled, a half-smile, but turned away, heading in the direction of the palace courtyard. To describe the last few weeks as a dream-nightmare, would be a total understatement. It felt like Disney gone bad – no one listened to her, there was no convincing anyone that she wasn't a fairy princess destined to take the throne and save the little kingdom from some unspoken foe.

Once Casey resigned herself to the fact that she'd simply gone insane, she decided she might as well play along. If only because it took too much effort to fight it. Her imagination was more powerful than she ever gave herself credit for. But if she every made it out of this loopy fairy tale world, her first stop would be to demand Paul prescribe sort of anti-hallucinatory drugs. And some Prozac while he was as it. She wasn't normally a pill pusher but if believing you were trapped in a fairy tale didn't constitute special circumstances she didn't know what would.

Casey's only refuge was the rare alone time she was afforded in the evening. She spent it walking outside the confining walls of the castle, a semblance of routine in an otherwise unfamiliar life. She turned a corner, planning to venture along the perimeter of the lake when she stopped suddenly.

An unfamiliar sound – faint drumming. Harp chords? She closed her eyes, trying to isolate the melody. She couldn't place it, but it was beautiful.

Her eyes darted heavenward. A tower she'd never noticed before loomed overhead, its slight slant misplaced against the perfect angles of the rest of the castle. The music grew louder as she approached it.

Now normally anyone who's familiar with fairy tales knows that mysterious towers pose serious danger. Casey knew this, and not just subconsciously. But while the music was mesmerizing, it wasn't the only thing that drew her towards the tower. While Casey didn't understand how she'd managed to get where she was, she knew she wasn't going to leave it by standing around. If finding a way home meant exploring a dark and creepy tower – that's what she'd do.

At the base of the tower was a door. Its handle was old and rusted and it took a surge of strength for Casey to pry it open.

The music was loud now, the harp chords echoing inside the tower. Steps lead upward in a twisting, spiral shape. Casey could make out a golden halo of light coming from a few floors above. She followed the light up the corridor, walls of gray encircling her. She steadied herself, placing one hand against the wall, cold stone against palm. A breeze swept through the tower, she wasn't sure from where, but it made chills run up her spine.

Casey stopped when she reached the top of the tower, where streams of light spilled from behind yet another door. She pushed it open.

The music stopped.

A girl with long blonde hair stood from behind a tall harp, her eyes narrowed. "Hello cousin."

Casey blinked. She'd heard the queen talk about her niece, in not so pleasant terms, but she'd never seen her until now. She couldn't get over the uncanny resemblance she had to someone in her former life. Her _real _life, she corrected. Memories had started to fade lately. Things she'd understood as absolute truths – faces, people – were reduced to jumbled flashes of recollection. Few people were still firmly fixed in her mind. Still, she recognized this girl. A schoolmate maybe? A friend of --

The girl stepped closer, her lips curling into a smile that made Casey uncomfortable. "Won't you sit down, Casey?"

Casey was surprised. Maybe she shouldn't have been, but for all the time she'd been here she couldn't convince one person to call her Casey. Not one. It was always Cassandra, Princess Cassandra, or, to her great chagrin, Her Royal Highness the Effervescent Princess Cassandra. But here was this strangely familiar girl who said her name slowly and deliberately, as though she knew something everyone else didn't.

Casey sat down on a small divan, coughing slightly at a wave of smoke coming from an incense-burning candle on the table.

The girl brought a tray of food and set it on the little table. "Help yourself, cousin."

Casey gasped. Were those_ fries_? And _ketchup_?! Her mouth watered. She hadn't eaten anything palatable in weeks. Still, after what happened with this girl's mother, Casey wasn't about to eat or drink anything she offered her. It was a shame though. "Thanks," Casey said. "But I've already eaten."

The girl sat down across from Casey, her hands folded in her lap.

The smoke from the little candle seemed to be spreading a thin fog around the room. Casey's eyes started to water.

The girl noticed and smiled. "You have been surprisingly hard to get rid of. Do you know that?"

Casey sat up, narrowing her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

The girls stood, facing each other, the small table serving as the only barrier between them.

"But it's over now, Casey. No one will find you in here."

Casey crossed her arms. "What makes you think I can't take care of myself?"

The girl smiled again, pulling a chord near the wall. With her tug, it drew back a velvet curtain that had blocked off the rear side of the room, revealing an extravagantly canopied bed and a massive standing mirror. "Look at yourself, _princess._" She said the word as though tasting her own disdain. "I don't think you're in a state to be of much help to anyone."

Casey approached the mirror. Her face was sullen, but her gaze zeroed in on her eyes – red and swollen. It stung just to look at them. "What's happening to me?"

Through the mirror's reflection Casey could see the girl moving towards the door, candle in one hand, key in the other. _Just great._

Realization came to her. The incense – it must be laced with something. She tried to leap after her betrayer but she didn't have the strength, her body suddenly weak. She tripped, taking the large mirror with her, shards of glass exploding from the frame.

She stumbled towards the bed. Everything was spinning. She tried to concentrate. She had to leave, find some exist out of the tower. But she'd be better off waiting until the room stopped hoola-hooping around her. And that sound of shattering glass – why wouldn't stop?!

She couldn't stand it.

With one last intake of breath, she fell backwards onto the bed of pillows. Her left hand, wounded from the glass, lay on the shimmering blanket – the dark cherry blood a stark contrast against the white silk.

To Be Continued…

(if there's interest)


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **Special thanks to the lovely **NotAContrivance** for betaing this installment.

And thank you also to those kind enough to review.

* * *

Chapter Two: Monsters and Wake-Up Calls

Derek paused, wiping a combination of dead leaves and sweat from his brow. He'd been hacking away at forest brush for over an hour, accomplishing very little. He needed a new plan.

It wasn't that the forest was too dense to move through. Instead of being filled with trees, they were more like giant weed-bushes. Each weed had long prickly stems, which in turn had smaller hair-like thorns that stuck to the skin. Derek had cuts all along his hands and arms from trying to slash through them.

He considered burning the brush down, but dismissed it. It was too risky. The fire would grow out of control. And would probably burn everyone inside the castle, instead of helping him reach them. If there really were people, that is. It was hard to believe that old man's crazy story. It was too weird.

But if he thought about it, waking up in a blacksmith's barn two days ago was pretty weird too. He'd been lying face down in a stack of hay, and thought for sure it was some twisted family prank. _Look Derek, we've gone to 'Medieval Times' without telling you._ What a laugh. He'd make sure to get ultimate payback. Except it wasn't a joke, and his family wasn't around. Anywhere.

He tried not think about that. The last thing he needed was to realize he actually missed them. Even if he did, a little.

Derek looked up at the skyline again. That crooked tower loomed overhead, appearing deceptively close. Each time he hacked through a few more feet of forest, the tower seemed almost to take a step back. No matter how much he worked, the gap between him and the tower stayed unchanged. It was beyond suspicious. And convinced Derek, more than anything, that it was involved in whatever was going on.

Derek walked back towards the village, carrying the axe he'd 'borrowed' from the blacksmith. He wiped his face with his shirt, trying to engineer a new plan of action. If this were a videogame (and it could be, couldn't it?), what would he do? For one thing, his sword would have worked. Getting through the forest was supposed to be the easy part in these kinds of things.

He opened the door to the blacksmith's barn, placing the axe on the wall where he'd found it. He sat on a bench – staring at the archaic tools. Wood, a mix of iron and other metals, smelting tools--

"Derek, are you in here?" A stout woman in a floral apron came into the barn. "Dinner will be ready soon."

Derek turned around, trying to smile. Whoever said the old days were better never tasted the food. "Uh, thanks Mrs. Smith. I'm not hungry tonight. I'm going to do some work in here."

She shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron. "A growing boy like you, refusing to eat? I still think I should send for the doctor. It isn't right." She complained but left him to his work, shutting the barn door behind her.

He continued inventorying the items at his disposal–brass gears, a ratchet, forging tools, a broken wheelbarrow...

Derek sat up suddenly–a vision from metal shop forming in his mind. It was far-fetched, but wasn't lately? He took a metal rod and started tracing blueprints onto a patch of dirt.

He'd build a foot-pedaled dune-buggy. With metal teeth. And a roll cage. It'd be a cross between a weed-whacker and an off-road vehicle. Albeit a very archaic fall-apart-at-its-seams off-road vehicle. But it should work nonetheless.

* * *

All Derek was missing was Led Zeppelin playing in the background. And maybe a helmet.

He climbed into _D-Monster_, the pet name for his ultimate creation. He was always good with his hands, and no, not just in the way you're thinking. It takes a certain mechanical skill to pull off the kind of tricks that made his reputation unrivaled. And he'd been surprised to realize how much he'd paid attention in metal shop. This whole time he thought he was just in it for an easy pass.

He'd made sure not to bring _D-Monster _through the village until it was empty – just before the sun peeked out of the eastern clouds. He was roughly fifteen yards from where the forest began, hoping that a fast start would make it easier to push through the brush.

"Now or never," he said to himself. With a deep breath he pedaled, pedaled, and pedaled, dust forming a whirlwind behind him. To Derek's relief, when _D-Monster _reached the forest-line, it did in fact cut through. The metal teeth at the vehicle's front ate through the brush like an angry t-rex. _Chomp, chomp._

It was music to Derek's ears.

Only a few shards of thorns reached him inside the roll cage. He'd covered it with fabric from a horse's blanket, leaving space enough to see through but otherwise protected. When he reached the base of the tower, almost an hour from when he'd started, his cheeks were covered in dirt and blood tricked from his temple.

He climbed out of the make-shift buggy. It felt like he'd held his breath the whole ride – his legs were stiff, his arms were killing him.

Leaning down by a stream that divided the forest from the tower, he rinsed his face in the cool water and took a drink.

He walked along the perimeter of the tower but there was no way in. He'd expected a door. Who builds a tower with no entrance?

Derek kneeled down to pick up something on the floor, turning it with his hands. A rusty door handle, but it was broken now.

So there was a door into this place at some point. Whatever. It wasn't there now. Derek would have to find a new way in. He lay down on the ground for a minute, resting his head on the grass and strumming his fingers on his chest. He stared at the tower through blinking eyes. He was starting to feel really tired. Maybe he should just close his eyes and—

Derek shot up suddenly, moving to stand. He noticed something near the top of the tower. A window—and it was open.

* * *

For the forty third time that morning Derek cursed himself for not bringing a rope. He'd spent the last half hour hanging off the edge of the building, tediously feeling along the cobblestones for notches to climb up. If you ever find yourself stalking a mysterious tower, learn from this and bring a rope.

Finally he was nearly at the top. Derek latched onto the window's base, pulling himself upward. Moving a velvet curtain out of the way, he stepped down into the room.

It was the strangest thing. Almost exactly what he expected—marble columns, tapestries, plush pillows everywhere, a giant harp (ok he didn't expect that part). It was like he'd seen the room before, in a movie or something. Every inch of the place was full of stuff—expensive stuff. Derek maneuvered around the harp and made his way to a huge canopied bed near the back of the room. White gauze came down in yards from the top of the bed to the floor. He moved it out of the way and sat next to the bed's dormant figure.

Casey. He wasn't sure how he'd known she was there, but he had. He'd felt it. Drawn like a moth to a flame or some other similar cliché.

He moved a strand of brown hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. And just watched her sleep, tracing a line along her forehead with his fingertips. Either he was mesmerized by how beautiful she looked or he was starting to get sleepy again. He could feel his eyelids starting to droop. It'd be easy to just rest his head on this nice pillow that smelled of Casey's hair…

Derek shook his head, making a face. He knew what he had to do and cat napping wasn't it. He took Casey's hand in his, noticing the blood on the sheet for the first time. He swallowed, squeezing her hand.

"Casey, wake up," he whispered.

She didn't move. He brought her hand close, softly pressing his lips to her fingers.

Nothing. Except a thousand chills running down his spine.

Derek refused to lose his nerve! The prince had exactly one function in these sorts of things and he wasn't about to mess up. Besides if this was all some elaborate dream he could do whatever he wanted—even kiss his stepsister.

Derek leaned down, inches away from Casey's face. He rubbed his nose against hers and whispered her name again for good measure. Finally he closed his eyes and touched his lips to hers, pursing them together in a brief but tender kiss.

Slowly, Casey's eyes fluttered open—glossy haze quickly replaced with brilliant blue clarity.

(Hopefully) to be continued...

* * *


End file.
